Signed desert
by KyleTheNerd
Summary: It isn't nessisarily fallout, but it fits best under the name fallout, because it can be related, just not that much- I only used fallout because 1. It's a good game 2. My story is a desert apocalypse themed mess.


The world is over.

Mentally.

The decaying body, however, remains. Scayved, broken, cold, and brown.

No- no, it's home. But not your home. It can be called anything, but it isn't anything. It's not your home, and more over, it isn't mine. Technically, we all live here, but not by choice; because this isn't our land anymore.

This barren waste of a earth, this dust ball of a planet; is my treading ground and desert.

It's the only place I know. The only place I have seen, heard, smelled, or felt.

I have walked these sands all my life. I have walked this planet, all my life.

This word has been reduced to rubble, sand, and wind. Buildings stand tall, against the breeze, some crumbling while others stand, like the day they where finished. Paint, has been worn away by the sands of time. But I look amongst the building for shelter and at times, an obstacle in a race for survival.

But I could never fight in the vast open desert, while the devil laughs and brew a storm in the sands. I would surely be killed.

So I run instead.

But never run alone.

And never trust anyone.

But never run on foot.

Sigma - 37th day [ENTRY 4]

/Aproximatly 3 days ago, I was crossing through a complex in the wastes. I haven't a clue as to what the complex was for, although it seems to have a strong reverence to a Pre-Destruction patrolium fabrication sight.

Patrolium seems to have been a major fuel source in the Pre-Destruction times. The building is tall, but does seem to have a basement, to which I haven't discovered yet.

Unfortunately I am not here by choice.. But, fortunately I wasn't followed.

That doesn't change the fact, however, that my sand speeder underwent a wing clipping on a wall somewhere no farther than one klick from here. I managed to bring most of the parts to my current location, along with all rations- including my water fabricator and food supply. I was unaware that the water fabricator can use patrolium oil as a fuel source until now, and can use extra oxygen and hydrogen from the surrounding air, compress it and creat water. I was unaware, due to me not having read the manual until a day ago.

I must now continue to salvage anything I can find./

He stood tall in the wind, with an old .MP3 file playing on his head gear, with boots stomped onto the ground, trench coat blowing in the breeze. His headgear wrapped around the back of his head, along with his mouth and nose, with a wire stretching under his dirtied shirt and trench coat, with a suction cup censor placed on his skin, over his heart. The face mask, branched up ward on both sides, and was based for support on his neck, even though it cover his entire head.

The headgear folded downward, by sliding into itself like a serious of plated sliding under each other. His black hair blowed in the same wind as his trench coat; crusty in certent areas with blood, while all of it was rough with sand being blow into it constantly. But, his face wasn't visible from the angle, as he faced the sun and felt the sand and breeze smack against his face, and loved it; because it was something you grew to love, because when you could stop and feel the breeze, it means you aren't dead.

Yet.

Sigma - 39th day [ENTRY 5]

/On one of the terminals I found a file labeled "Rock and Roll"; after examining, I have determined, it's a file chocked full of amazing music! I am taking a heavily likening to something called "311" along with "Green Day". I downloaded the file onto my head gear, and I will copy and send it to anyone I make friends with in the future.

On the current subject, I have found the basement- and it is completely horrifying. I hear disembodied howls periodically, that seem sub human. To be described, they sound as if a being is being tortured, and shredded apart. Each cry seem to sound as if it comes from a different location.

I do not want to enter; but something seems to need attention direly./

Sigma - 40th day [ENTRY 6]

/I have dreaded it long enough, I am entering the west wing- from which I will enter the basement.

The basement is cold, dusty, and moreover dark. I have been maneuvering through the serious of rooms, occasionally finding a still semi-functional terminal and checking it for data.

This complex seems to have belonged to the Pre-Destruction military research fasility and branch. Ironically, it seems to be the same cooperation that designed and published my headgear, boots, and vitals monitor. They also seem to have had a very heavy influence in the direction the destruction of this world- not saying that it is there fault, but they most sertantly could have done a better job. Thankfully, however, most of the technology that they manufactured in this facility seemed to be a higher quality software, and- they have also manufactured the majority of the parts I use for my sand speeder.

The haul should be good.

But the hollowing seems to be getting louder the further east I go in this maze of rooms. The rooms, typically are segregated into cubicles, while other rooms that branch off from the minor hallways are much smaller, and have signal desks.

I found a room to the west, labeled De-Breifing. The entire room seemed to have a large table in the center, with a few chairs surrounding it. The table, however, seemed to be wired into the floor, with server all serial ports on the side for data transfers; while beside the ports, there was a small control panel that seemed to serve for navigating what I could only assume to be files and .PDFs. The table had a large switch, that was in the off position, located directly below the outcropping control panel.

Naturally, I flipped it. /

The table whirred to life, and protected above it a hologram displaying the words:

SIGMA CORPERATION

welcome

Stalked, the young man jumped backward, and stared at the bright blue hologram.

"Oh... my god. "

The hologram then flickered, and changed, now reading "Please select model". He moved toward the control panel, and looked at it, as it displayed three objects.

\- K-9 Unit (ready for manufacture/edit/display)

\- Milita Grade HandGun (project finished - ready for manufacture/display)

\- Milita Grade Revolver (project finished - ready for manufacture/display)

He stood there, momentarily, reading off his options. He licked how the word "revolver" had sounded, and so he tapped the option with his index finger, and was greated by the option to manufacture it, or display it on the holographic display, or cancel and go to the previous screen.

He pressed "Display"; then looked up at the hologram as it immediately displayed a magnum. The gun stemmed to have multiple chambers, maybe 6; a built in sight the seemed basic enough to be exceptionally functionable. The grip connected to the trigger, which connected to the chambers, which connected to the barrel; and all of it was done flawlessly leaving for a complete disign, that was stunning, whilst intimidating.


End file.
